


Barrysta

by loverlyduck



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Insufferably cute, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverlyduck/pseuds/loverlyduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry's the barista for a small coffee shop in NYC.</p>
<p>Originally chaptered in Wolfjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The line snakes out the door. The morning is always the busiest time for a coffee shop; cranky people craving their pick me up. Barry leans to the left and right of his post at the cash register between customers, trying to get a feel of how long this day is really going to be. From what he can, or rather, cannot see— infinitely long.

He started working at this small time coffee shop about a month ago, before he realized he has no talent for making coffee. His only job is to be posted strictly at the register to avoid any exploding expressos or messy mochas. It’s not like he’s a skilled barista or has any real notable work experience in the food industry—he never said he could craft a two pump, skinny, caramel, mocha…thing! He only got this job because his friend’s parents owned the swanky, hip little coffee shop. It’s a decidedly niche cafe close to the artsy district in NYC. Most of the people who come in here are poor college kids who can’t afford Starbucks, or busy working class people who hate the rich college kids who populate all the Starbucks. It’s not his ideal job—far from it. He just needed some extra cash and since he can only really work during break, he has to make some real money now or else starve next semester.

The register is old, and he means old. His chosen weapon is an ancient IBM piece of crap from the late 80’s, running off of dust and salvaged parts that are also from the late 80’s. He has to press the faded, sticky buttons a few times before he can successfully ring up a small Americano and even more times to run a credit card. In the modern age of ‘scan your phone to pay’ and instant credit features, this thing is a fossil in the most extreme way—two minutes to run a card and strictly cash on some days. Customers tap their feet and smack their lips waiting for the old girl to puff out a receipt and Barry has to apologize for her rusty bones and coaxes the old girl to keep going. He affectionately named her Doris and refuses to let anyone rush her or put her down—they have a special bond. When it’s a particularly busy day like today he’ll occasionally rub her side and coo, “It’s OK Doris, take your time.” in an attempt to avoid a melt down of register-wrecking proportions. She’s very sensitive you know.

The atmosphere follows the tune of the register, outdated and pushing extinction. It’s like the old coffee places you see in movies with the big, plush arm chairs, some couches and real wooden tables—complete with splinters and cracking finish. The walls bare except for the occasional black and white painting of a saxophone or other brass instrument. The casual, swanky jazz that drifts from the speakers can only barely be heard over the constant buzzing of customers; talking in to their cellphones, talking to themselves on Bluetooth, only noticing him when they half scream their order right at his face. Although the cafe attempts to be relaxed the customer base does not reflect its intentions.

An angry blonde woman approaches the counter, adjusting her large black bag with a large shoulder shrug. She sighs heavily before staring intently at the menu board. Most customers do this; they’ll come up to the register with absolutely no idea what they want to order—regardless of how long they just stood in line with nothing else to look at but the menu. It’s what makes the line so long and it’s what makes Barry so agitated he gnaws on the inside of his lip, pulling at the extra skin with his front teeth, creating pills of skin to slowly peel back in agonizingly slow draws. After pulling off two lines of skin and an eternity later, the woman grunts and slams her bag on the counter. Classy.

"Yeah, I’ll have a…" she scoffs, "Gawd, don’t you people just have normal coffee??" she sighs and projects her order in his general direction, "…the largest coffee you have, as black as you can get it as soon as possible." She fishes out three crumpled dollars from the bottom of her endless bag and throws them toward Barry, leaving him a generous tip of three cents. How kind of her. He punches the blank buttons a few times before the drawer flies—out of all of the register’s components, the spring that releases the drawer is by far the strongest piece; it thrusts forward as violently as the day she was made.

The customer swishes past him in a flurry of hair and perfume, continuing her ‘rudely interrupted’ conversation with herself. Squinting he can barely make out the blue glow of her Bluetooth under layers of permed hair, but he wasn’t going to doubt that she enjoys her own company enough to talk to it. When she’s sufficiently far away from the counter Barry shakes his head and throws the three pennies in to the tip container. He knows it’s only going to get worse. Once one customer decides to be angry and rude as shit the rest are soon to follow, like a herd—if one of them is angry for no reason, might as well also be angry for no reason and take it out on the first human you come in contact with who is considered below you. 

Barry sighs and braces for a shitty day, greeting the next guest with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He shrugs his shoulders and readies for the next order. He hears a slight chuckle and jerks his head up, is someone laughing at him? He puts on his 'excuse me?' city-glare, his fingers still poised angrily over the dilapidated buttons.

"God, people like that are the worst." The laugh floats through his words like a song. A guy stands on the other side of the counter, shaking his head. "I’m sorry you had to deal with that man." A small smile creeps on to his lips, the laugh lines around his eyes creasing in to a genuine expression. Barry’s heart leaps in to his throat. He’s tall, super tall, at least a foot taller than him and crazy thin. He’s made even taller by the extra two inches his hair gives him, sticking up in all directions as if he just came in from a wind storm. Butterflies seep in to his stomach, crawling down his throat. He’s oddly attractive, something about him is confident and appealing, drawing Barry to him. Something about how he’s sympathetic to his situation and how he just seems to get his shitty job in this shitty city… He watches him in awe. He sees his mouth move, he’s ordering. Crap, Barry wasn’t listening.

"W-what was that?" Barry asks, blinking a few times and leaning forward, knocking in to the register in the process and making it chime. He hears his laugh again, bubbling up through his throat. Barry’s face flushes, he can feel the hot heat building on his face and knows he’s making a complete fool out of himself.

"A small coffee please, Barry." He smiles a wide, comforting smile, looking straight at Barry, right in to his eyes. How does he know his name? Barry’s heart jumps and he reflexively jams his finger down on to the register, the cash drawer flying open with gusto and hitting him right in the stomach. He lets out a slight ‘oof’, thrown off balance by the sudden onslaught of ancient technology. He hears the melodic beauty of his laugh again, “Today is not your day, man.” 

Flustered, Barry uses both hands to close the drawer and smiles shyly. Of course he knows his name, it’s on his name tag—the thing pinned to his uniform to allow customers the opportunity to refer to him as such. He’s just swept up that’s all—it’s just because he has a nice voice and a nice smile—he inwardly groans. Why do the tall skinny ones always get him? ‘Just calm down,' he thinks, giving himself a mental pep talk. 'Take his order, and then let him melt in to the crowd of the city just like all the other ones…' He grabs a cup off of the shelf and clears his throat before asking him for his name.

"Dan." He says, still looking right at him, never breaking that contact for a moment. Barry freezes up, he can feel his shoulders scrunch, locking up; it takes his entire concentration to make his fingers work. ‘He’s just a nice guy’ he tells himself, ‘He’s just being nice to you because he’s nice. He’s just nice. God he’s so nice...’

It takes forever, but he finally scrawls his short name on to the cup. It looks all wrong in his nervous handwriting and he has the urge to rewrite it. The line grows dangerously longer the more he fumbles around. He pushes his fluttering heart down, out of his throat and turns around filling his cup with steaming coffee, something even he is capable of doing. When he turns back Dan’s fishing out a five dollar bill. They trade, their hands sliding against one another in accidental contact. Barry has to resist the urge to pull his hand back quickly—he has soft hands. Barry clumsily gives him his change; noticing as Dan slips a dollar fifty in to the tip jar—he winks.

"Thanks a lot, Barry." He says with a final smile before turning around and disappearing out of Barry’s line of sight. Barry spends the next few moments clutching Doris and remembering how to breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pew pew!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more of this! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've liked writing it!  
> andante-ace made some wonderful Barrista (or Barrysta) fan art on Tumblr! Check it out, it's really good!  
> If you ever make fan art of anything I write be sure to tag me in it so I can reblog it and type in all caps how much I love it.  
> Spoiler alert: it's a lot.  
> A big, moist thank you to everyone who likes, kudos, comments, reblogs and reads my work. Seriously, I do this me, but I also do it for you guys and it means a lot to me that you're all still here!

When it’s slow the owners let him drag out his school books and work on his winter projects. Not many professors give out this kind of work because of unpredictable class enrollment, but he got the luck of the draw this semester. Three of his future instructors want papers from them within the first week of class. And not a one page, simple summary number, no— a five page analysis on small chapter of his five hundred dollar text book that is so vague he ends up giving up on his text book and looking it up on Google on his phone. He hasn’t gotten that far though and is currently attempted to make sense of a particularly boring, long winded paragraph. As he underlines semi-helpful words and phrases in light pencil his mind can’t help but wander. It’s boring work and soon he’s glancing around the shop, trying to find anything remotely interesting to concentrate on—anything other than this crap. He chews on the end of his eraser, a gross habit formed in his first semester of college. It helps him think but it also makes his mouth super eraser-flavored and dry.

His pencil chewing is the only thing to distract him from thinking about him. He pops up in his mind every day. He anticipates seeing the messy mop of curls over the crowd of boring crew cuts and side sweeping bangs; the butterflies in his stomach go in to a frenzy just thinking about his tall, lanky form coming through the door. He can feel his throat constrict just remembering their first encounter a few days ago; it threw him off for the rest of his shift and was rendered so useless he had to go on dishes. While washing every dish he would replay the scene over and over in his head, face flushing with remembered embarrassment. He’d have to stop washing just to scrunch his shoulders and bury his chin in his chest, attempting to run away from his anxious memories. Even now as he thinks about it he inwardly cringes; could he have been any more awkward? He tries to think of a worse situation and can’t.

He repeats his name in his mind over and over, “Dan, Dan, Dan…” When he comes in again, he’ll be natural; he’ll say, “Hey Dan, what’s up?” Maybe he’ll wave, or maybe he’ll be all cool and stoic, leaning on the counter nonchalantly. He puts down his pencil and tries it, propping his elbow on Doris, leaning on to his arm and resting his chin in his hands. Nope, this is an awkward position… He tries a different one, resting his forearms on the counter in front of his book and leaning forward. The scene plays in his mind; Dan walks in, throwing him one of those brilliant smiles, showing all of his teeth—his bright eyes crinkling along the edges—abort, abort, too flustered; can’t continue.

He tries again, making a mental note to not think too much about his smile, or his eyes, or his height or his—OK, focus Barry. He needs to be cool, he needs to be like Clint Eastwood in his old westerns or something; a smooth talker. He always got all the boys… He laughs at himself. It’s so ridiculous, but it’s worth a shot. He pushes his book off to the side and leans on to the counter with his right arm. He snaps his left hand in to a finger gun and practices his name again.

"Hey there Dan," He says, drawling a little bit as if he’s really a pistol-wielding cowboy in a western movie. He fires his finger gun with a small "pew" noise before pretending to twirl it around in his hand and holstering it in his finger gun holster, also known as his pocket. He pulls it out again, quick draw! He pulls his thumb back, cocking the deadly finger weapon. He shoots it again, imagining hitting him right in the heart with his cupid’s bullet. "Howdy there, Dan," he says again, his accent thicker and more ridiculous. He cocks his gun again, aiming with his other hand, ready to fire. He quickly whips around and turns towards the cafe— or rather at the crotch belonging to the customer at his counter—oh, when did they get there? 

"Well hey there, Barry." They laugh, copying his western drawl. He knows that laugh.

He flings his body backwards, slamming straight in to the coffee machine behind him. It shakes and groan with the sudden impact, Barry stays completely still until it makes a coffee-bean-gargling screech and rattles to a stop. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with his body. He wrenches his eyes away from the assaulted coffee maker, coming face to face with Dan. Holy crap. He just saw that. He just heard that. Oh God what the hell. He’s smiling, why is he smiling? He’s holding up a finger gun too, steadying it with his other hand. He fires it at Barry, lifting his hand up slightly as if it really fired and had kicked back. Barry’s still plastered against the battered machinery, too stunned to move.

"Looks like you were too slow, Barry." He says his name again and he’s stunned still. He’s going along with it; how is he not mortified by that odd, western showdown? How is Dan not creeped out hearing his name come out of his mouth in such a casual way? Does he think that Barry saw him and was just playing around? Is he just going along with it not to embarrass him? He’s too nice, too kind, too sweet. Barry’s heart beats fast in his chest, choking his throat, but he forces himself to find the words and choke out his practiced script.

"H-hey t-there Dan," he stutters, peeling himself off of the coffee machine. He’ll have to apologize to it later. He positions himself back in front of Doris and stares at Dan—he’s still smiling. "What would you like… to have… today?" Was that too friendly? Was that implying that he expects him to come back tomorrow? Was that too question-y? He’s over thinking things, he knows he is, but he’s blowing it and really doesn’t want to… He can feel the sweat pool in the palms of his hands and resists the urge to wipe it on his jeans. He watches as Dan also holsters his finger pistol in his back pocket before ordering.

"Yeah, man. A small coffee if you don’t mind." He starts pulling out his wallet and Barry grabs a medium cup off of the stack. He uses the time it takes to write his name on the cup to his advantage, looking down and away from his gaze. It’s too overwhelming; he knows his face is red and he can feel his watchful eyes on him as he writes. He’s too perfect, rolling with his weird scenario like that, making him feel so accepted. He scrawls a hasty ‘Dan’ (it still looks wrong) and quickly turns around to fill it. The machine squeals in protest, but eventually lets loose a stream of coffee. When he turns around Dan’s holding out exact change for his drink. They exchange currency for goods and services easily enough with minimal contact this time. Barry’s heart falls a bit, he was actually a little excited to feel his hands again…

Doris thrusts open with gusto and Barry quickly catches her with his free hand, throwing the money inside before closing her gently. Dan watches with what seems like interest as Barry pats her a few times before turning his head up to face Dan again. He does his tinkling laugh and smiles again—it makes Barry smile too.

"See you space cowboy…" Dan says, bringing his loaded fingers up to his face and shooting another invisible bullet at Barry before turning on his heels and walking towards the door. Barry gets that reference! The sudden realization that Dan is as nerdy as him sends a shiver up his spine and spreads goose bumps on his arms. He feels the adrenaline rush through his system. He has to say something, has to call back to him.

"I love that show!" He belts out after him; it’s a little hysterical and his voice cracks near the end. He doesn’t know what else to say—’you’re amazing, you’re stunning, you’re perfect, you’re too good to be true…’ Dan turns around at the door, pushing it open with his back.

"Oh yeah?" He’s out the door, holding it open with his foot; the setting sun eclipsing his face in shadow, but Barry can tell he’s smiling. He calls back to him, "We should watch it sometime." And with that mysterious sentence, dripping with an unknown promise, he’s gone.

Barry is officially rendered unfit and unable to work on his project.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan chapter!! Yeah, feelings!

The shop is out of his way; hidden down several side streets off the main path he takes to work. He found it one day when he first started his new job and was trying to find the building nestled in the middle of the city next to all the others looking exactly the same--it's a task he enjoys taking on. He old fashioned... he guesses. He believes in organically forming a map of the city in your mind to help you understand the layout of your neighborhood better--but this shit gets him lost more times than not. In reality, he's really just embarrassed to admit he still has a 90s flip phone and can't GPS his way around New York like literally everyone else. He looks up in to the crowds of strangers as he walks with a silent determination and a smile on his face--not like anyone sees it; they're all buried in their iPhones. He's always been eager to meet new people, make connections with strangers and form unconventional friendships, but the big city doesn't foster his love for social interaction. He's usually glared at more than talked to; as soon as he opens his mouth to a passerby they cringe away from his voodoo magic and slink away back in to the pool of humanity that is the streets of New York.

When he stumbled across the quaint shop he couldn't even see the store front, only the line that funneled out of the door and in to the street. The sign outside was old, previously vandalized and crudely painted over by someone who was obviously not an artist by any means. "Cafe" was scrawled over the thin brown paint and a slight outline of a tag could be seen under the lettering like an opaque over layer. Assuming the building condemned or a shit hole, he was surprised by the amount of bodies in front of it. A crowd of people gathered on the outskirts of the line just by accident and herded in to a massive road block typical of city walkers. No one in the mass, including Danny, could muster up the courage to ask what the holdup was and those stuck in the pod were too big of pussies to shove their way out, also including Danny. So, deterred from his commute from work, Danny sat there and stayed gridlocked in the crowd until the line started slowly crawling forward.

Before he realized it he was inside a coffee shop being shuffled in to a line. First he noticed how dark is was inside, bleak and a tad bit dilapidated. The furniture around him was old, a thin layer of dust permanently ground in to the upholstery altering its color to be mucky for eternity. Each chair had a body in it, typing away on a laptop or flicking around on their phones. The clientele varied from much older gentlemen pensively sipping a ceramic mug of black home brew to trendy college kids with Mac books and super huge foamy situations perched next to their textbooks. He glanced at the menu board and was surprised to find an extreme variety of choices, each one more overwhelming than the last. The extensive menu jumped from normal coffee to a baguette with spinach and some sort of dipping sauce that he couldn't pronounce. The smell of fresh bread drifted through his nostrils and made his stomach gurgle despite having already eaten a balanced breakfast of Lucky Charms. The temptation to stay at the crazy, out of place shop was very tempting; if not for the fact he had no time and no money--a hindering and depressing combo. Being relatively poor for the time being he quietly stepped out of line and was about to regrettably head for the door until a deafening beeping noise caught his attention.

Looking towards the source of the noise he could see a cashier, probably about college age, with his hands up in a surrendering pose in front of the register; a terrified expression plastered on his face. Fascinated about what could have happened, Dan freezes and waits for the scene to unfold. He watches as the cashier relaxes slightly, running a hand down his face, frustrated and a little overwhelmed. A girl runs over to try and help, but he waves her away quite admittedly, seemingly insisting he can handle whatever it is on his own. The girl walks away pouting and dejectedly returns to the espresso machine to continue pushing buttons. Wrenching his eyes back to the cashier he can see he's rolled up his sleeves and has the register's back pulled off. He has an apologetic look on his face and Dan assumes he's apologizing to the customer, but upon further inspection he's saying reassuring words not to the fuming woman, but to the register itself. The cashier gently rubs the side of the register, talking to it. Dan watched in awe as he lovingly stroked it and cooed at it; the sight of it was borderline crazy but somehow extremely heartwarming. In this city of strangers and glares, this guy is developing a pretty deep emotion attachment to a Point of Sale machine to the level of talking to it when it breaks or malfunctions. Danny scoffs, dumbstruck by the idea that such a tender person exists. His feet are firmly planted as he watches the rest of the interaction, which included several apologetic glances and some hard resets, which made the cashier grimace--the expression out of place on his soft features.

To the delight of the cashier the register groaned back to life and the entire line heaved a heavy sigh of relief and impatience. The cashier smiles then, a small, private smile obviously only meant for himself, but Dan saw it and he immediately falls in love with it. It lifts his cheeks dramatically, accenting his angled jaw and round cheeks. It spreads across his face, the smile reaching through and showing through his eyes-- the scenceraity of it touches the corner of his eyes, lighting his face with happiness. Unable to pull his eyes away again he watches as the long herd of customers stepped forward toward the counter and the newly cool, calm collected cashier push them through with ease--not even embarrassed that he just babied a cash register in front of twenty plus New Yorkers, which he had to admit, probably didn't even notice. The smile still lingers on his face and it takes more willpower than Dan thought he could muster to stay out of line--the need to talk to him almost winning out over poverty.

Vowing to come back when he had money, Dan left the coffee shop behind to continue wandering through the streets of New York with much self restraint--the desire to march right up to the counter and demand his name almost makes his legs betray him as he walks. The streets still looked unfamiliar, but he pressed onward with new drive and ambition in his step. The revitalizing sight of human tenderness was what he needed to renew his vigor in his quest to find his place of employment. Only this time he's even more so distracted by the tender, valiant cashier at the small, hidden, out dated, out of place, obviously named coffee shop, the Cafe.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s always there when he goes. The past two times he’s there, sitting behind the counter; either bored as hell and distracted or busy and focused. However, he’s not by himself today—he’s huddled together with a fellow employee, whispering with some girl that he recognizes as the phantom who runs the espresso machine. She’s a bit taller than him, dressed to the tens, completely done up in dark makeup, curled black hair, sharp black nails… They’re currently hunched up close to one another in a private conversation, whispering fervently—she’s doing most of the whispering, using her hands to accent how loud she really wants her voice to be; which, judging by her arm circles, is pretty loud. He takes small steps, slowly getting closer, and as he creeps on to their back and forth he hears a snip-it of her whispers.

"And you didn’t get his number?!" She half shouts as Barry cowers a bit farther in to himself, obviously intimidated by the taller woman. He shakes his head, losing the ability to whisper back when she’s looming over him like a mother hen. Barry senses his slow approach and turns his head, ready to help a normal customer, but makes eye contact with Dan. Dan gives him an apologetic smile, attempting to communicate he’s sorry for interrupting whatever conversation they was having. Barry’s face instantly drains of all color and Danny has to guess they were talking about something of dire consequence of which he wasn’t supposed to hear. The porcelain girl looks irritated, seeing Barry’s attention elsewhere and turns to see who he was staring at. She slaps both hands over her mouth, her face draining of angry; her worried eyes darting between Barry and Dan expectantly. Dan’s smile slips off of his face, confused at their silence and surprise. It takes a while, but Dan’s the first one to break the silence.

"Hey, I’m Dan." He says to her, forcing yet another smile—attempting to break some of the weird tension that’s floated in to the air.

"I know…" The girl sing songs lightly before introducing herself through a fit of giggles, "Suzy." She says curtly, glancing over at Barry once more and then back to Dan. Suzy gives a shy smile from behind her fingers and leans over to Barry. She whispers a painfully audible, "He is cute…”, causing Barry to cringe away from her. She does a slight nod towards Dan before scurrying back over to her espresso machine, hiding behind the towering mechanism. Dan decides to pretend he didn’t hear anything to save them both from the onslaught of embarrassment and turns back to Barry. He’s red from the neck up and stares at the register with such severity Dan’s afraid he might explode it with his mind. Dan has to chuckle at his nervousness; he’s always so quiet and reserved when Dan’s there. He can see him be a normal, functioning cashier when he helps other customers, but he visibly freezes up when Dan comes to the counter. Dan didn’t want to have a silent stare down today, so he makes a push towards normalcy.

"Could I get a small coffee?" Dan smiles down at Barry as he nods curtly, pushing a few too many buttons to ring up his small coffee. Dan watches the small screen as several other drink orders flood the register that aren’t ‘small coffee’. He takes to reading them out loud as Barry fumbles around the keys, only making him mess up even more.

"Cappuccino… Mochachino? Americano… Vanilla latte… Macchiato… Caramel macchiato… What the hell is a frittata? Is it any good?" Dan laughs as Barry’s shoulders hunch forward with every wrong order, his chin retracting in to his chest and his face splotchy. A giggle bubbles through his lips, it’s too cute to get him worked up—to work through his mask of customer service and see his real self. He’s been addicted to digging through his thin shell of normalcy to unveil his delicious personality. It’s like opening up an oyster and finding a pearl inside; it’s oddly satisfying and makes him disgustingly happy. His smile spreads wide across his face, "You’re adorable when you’re flustered." He says through bits of laughter. Barry’s finger freezes over the keys. His eyes stare unseeing at the gibberish of faded buttons. He’s in total shock, just standing there, frozen, suspended in time. Dan clears his throat. Did he say something weird? Maybe he was teasing him too much. He waves in front him, leaning down and tilting his head to the side to get a good look. Yep, he’s frozen. His eyes are wide, watering slightly at the edges. His face is so red Dan’s afraid steam might start to waft off of his cheeks in small billows of embarrassment. This is what he wanted to avoid. Crap. What did he do?

The wisp of a girl comes out from her station, pushing Barry aside with ease and quickly smashing in keys until all of the old orders are erased and replaced with a small coffee. Barry stands next to the register, jostled out of his own thoughts, he fumbles for a cup, grabbing a large one this time, and starts filling it up with coffee. As the cup slowly fills Dan watches as Barry is able to calm himself from whatever kind of fit he was having. Dan feels terrible when he turns around and his face is still red, eyes not meeting his. This is not how he wanted this visit to go. He’s about to drop to his knees and apologize when Barry’s voice squeaks through his worry.

"Did-" he takes a breath, still unable to look up, "Did you say I was…" Barry glances up, meeting his eyes for a split second before splotches of pink dance across his cheeks and he has to look back down. "…adorable?" his voice squeaks on the last syllable, his own body betraying him even more. Dan’s heart wrenches in his chest, it’s too much.

"Yeah," he breathes out; Barry’s head whipping back up. Dan’s hands shoot up in front of him, shaking back and forth in a dismissive gesture. "I-I’m sorry; did it bother you?! I won’t say it again!" Dan stutters seeing Barry’s surprised eyes meeting his own,

"No!" Barry half shouts; a pan falls to the ground from behind Suzy’s station, it must have shocked her too. "No, um…" Barry regains volume control, "It didn’t bother me.. At all…" a smile dances on his lips and genuine happiness seeps in to his features. Danny’s heart stops in his chest. If it didn’t bother him, then that means he was embarrassed because… Dan can feel the sweat pool on the palms of his hands. He’s suddenly too nervous to speak, the apologies melting away and replaced with a spontaneous, stupid idea.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" Dan blurts, wiping a sweaty hand on his jeans. Barry jumps backwards slightly and Dan can hear Suzy giggle behind her station, but can’t be bothered to actually turn and look. Barry’s putting on a spectacle while stuttering for an answer; his hands flail around the register, unsure of what to say or how to say it. He brings his hands up to his face and covers it completely. He nods his head in to his cupped palms.

"Yes!" Barry finally gasps out, breathing heavily in to his own hands. He runs his fingers up his face and through his short hair, grabbing the back and leaning forward, attempting to catch his breath. He’s so distressed Dan has to take a minute to process the fact he agreed. Giddy with excitement, he’s unsure of what to say next—any semblance of calm, cool and collected he might have had flew out the window as soon as Barry gave the green light. They should set a time, set a date, go somewhere nice… Where should they go? What should they do?

Danny leans over the counter, crossing in front of Barry and grabbing his marker, Barry’s eyes following his long arm and dexterous fingers. He beckons Barry over, tilting his head back in a jerking motion and smiling. Barry follows his command like a little puppy. Dan reaches towards him and grabs one of Barry’s hands, bringing it back towards him. On the back of his hand in his messy scrawl he writes out his number, making sure to write every digit clearly. He can hear Barry do a hard swallow. When he releases his hand, Barry retracts it slowly, bringing it to his face and holding his wrist with his other hand like it’s a precious object. He stares at his hand incredulously and Danny laughs at his sincerity.

"Let me know when you’re free." Danny waits for him to look up before turning to leave, throwing him the biggest smile he could muster. As if on cue, Barry calls to him as he reaches the door.

"Tomorrow!" he calls, "I get off at 8 tomorrow!" Dan turns around and walks backwards through the door.

"See you then." He wants to say more, begs himself to say something smooth or cool, or anything—but he’s already out the door.

When he’s safely away from the windows he takes a minute to let his nervous energy catch up to him. He squats down on the sidewalk a block down from the shop, resting his arms on his knees and his coffee on the pavement. He runs his hands through his hair and looks up at the endless skyline of New York City. 

His cheeks hurt; he brings one hand down to touch his face. For some reason he can’t stop smiling.

—-

The rest of the day was painfully long. Barry’s heart never stopped pounding. He could feel his pulse in his finger tips every time he touched his marker. 

He’s at home on his bed, clad in only a loose fitting T-shirt and boxers, the surreal events of the day making it impossible for him to fall asleep. He’s alone in his dark room and his mind wanders as he stares at his ceiling.

He remembers what he wore today, dark jeans, a faded shirt and his worn leather jacket. He always smiles; he’s always cheerful, always wanting to talk to him, always making an effort to see him. Barry can feel something stir in the pit of his stomach. The idea that they’re going to hang out causes butterflies to creep in to his throat, choking him with possibilities. He closes his eyes and his mind drifts.

They’re dangerously close in the small confines of Dan’s car. Dan leans over the center console, bringing a hand up to touch his jaw and trace down to his chin, grasping it lightly. He leans forward, their faces hovering only centimeters over his. Barry can feel his breath against him; he wants to kiss him; he needs to kiss him. Dan’s lips graze his in a ghost of a kiss and Barry’s heart stops. His stomach clenches painfully, the teasing kiss making his breath come faster against him. He forces himself against Dan, his moan passing through their lips and cascading down his throat. He can hear Dan’s breath hitch and only moments later can feel Dan’s hands on his chest, wandering hands reaching under his shirt.

Keeping his eyes closed his hands slip past the band of his boxers, tracing down his hip bones. He gasps lightly when his cold fingertips come in contact with his warm cock. He’s painfully hard; the friction of his calloused fingers sweet and torturous. Using both hands he lightly glides the tips of his fingers over himself, slowly traversing down the length at an excruciating pace. His chest shudders in anticipation.

His shirt’s gone and they’re in the back seat, tangled together. Their sweat drops down their necks, mixing together as their bodies move. The feeling of their skin colliding against one another sending jolts down his body. He can feel him breathing against him, panting above him, breaking away from his lips to whisper his name. “Barry…” 

When he fully grips himself his mouth opens in a silent moan, his throat closing almost immediately. As he flexes his hands he finds his voice, a long groan rumbling through his throat. He moves his hands together, up and down his length in a teasing motion, never getting a fully satisfied pass. He pulls one hand out, putting it behind himself, gripping the pillow hard. He uses his new leverage to make every pull harder, faster— the sudden onslaught on his nerves making him bite his lip; containing the low moans whining through his throat.

He breaks their kiss and presses their foreheads together for a moment, breathing hard. He slips past his face and presses light kisses against the skin of his throat, trailing down his collarbone, leaning hard against him. “You’re adorable…”

He gasps his name, digging his heels in to the mattress and thrusting up in to his hands, the warm liquid staying in the tight confines of his boxers. He feels the tremors pass through his body, curling his toes and arching his back. As he rides out the final waves of orgasm Dan’s face is clear on the back of his eyelids. He’s so lost in his own fantasy that he can feel him, sense his presence above him. He stays like that, waiting for the dread and regret to sink in, but it never comes.

He decides to never open his eyes, falling asleep; Dan occupying the hollows of his eyelids.


	5. See You Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long haitus! I hope this chapter makes it all worth it

"You don't know how to play Mario Kart?!" Barry asks incredulously. Dan's in his apartment, sitting on his couch in an almost surreal idea of a date. The idea of Dan sitting in his apartment as enough to confound him completely. He showed up exactly at 8, sporting his usual jeans, a plain black T-shirt and his delicious leather jacket. Barry felt a little over dressed with his slim cut jeans and button up, but there was no time to change as Dan barreled through the front door and on to his couch. They were going to watch the entirety of Cowboy Bebop, but somehow ended up staring at the DVD menu screen talking about video games. They're sitting next to each other, one half of a seat cushion the only thing protecting their legs from tense collision. 

Dan shrugs, laughing a little bit to ease his nerves. "No dude," he finally responds, his voice raising in a defensive tone, "I totally skipped over the N64 era and all game franchises that came with it."

"But it was on the SNES!" Barry retorts playfully--Dan's not getting away so easily. 

Dans hands go up in surrender, "Well whatever, I still haven't played it and don't know how. Can we watch the anime, please?" Dan makes an open handed gesture to the television and looks over with pleading eyes--the humiliation is too much for him to take on the first date. Barry stops smiling and nods, realizing that maybe he should have quit before Dan got too flustered. 

Barry shifts in his seat, his body turning away from Dan and back to the screen. "Ok, two episodes. One hour. Then I beat your ass in Mario Kart." Barry blushes slightly before smiling and casually glancing at Dan. To Barry's relief he's smiling. 

"Deal." The chuckle he lets out is almost like a song.

It isn't until Barry presses play that he feels Dan get closer, their knees and upper thighs touching just enough through their jeans to make Barry's heart race. A chill runs up Barry's spine--he's almost too afraid to look over and see Dan's face that little bit closer to his. He hears Dan swallow and tries not to focus on how hot it sounded. Barry can feel the sweat pool in his palms. 

The theme song plays and Barry can hear Dan sing and hum along to it. He's not 100% sure if he can make it through an episode without collapsing at this rate. 

The episode progresses, whimsical and hilarious as always, and Barry is very aware of Dan's gaze on the side of his face. He tries not to look weird, but the attractiveness of Dan's jaw line and the softness of his eyes drifts through his mind... He swallows, hard.

"Where do you go to school?" Dan asks as the two commercial panels appear marking halfway through the first episode. It takes Barry a minute to process he's asking him a question. 

"Oh!" Barry turns his head to look at Dan. As they make eye contact the difficulty of answering becomes apparent. "Uh, um, NYU. I graduate in May..." Barry realizes that Dan's seen him do his homework at work countless times. It only makes sense he'd ask. Barry waits a polite moment before asking him, "W-what is it that you do?" His stutter sounds a little too desperate in his ears. A beat passes, "Do you go to school?"

Dan scoffs and runs a hand through his messy mane, almost as if expecting the follow up question. The wild curls fall back in to beautifully disheveled place. He breathes in before answering, "I'm a musician." He turns to look at Barry-- waiting for a response. But Barry just keeps listening, trying not to show any doubt in his features, waiting for him to continue. Dan smiles shyly and glues his eyes to the television.

"I'm a musician. And I'm trying to make money being a musician. But... I want to be a musician and make money, but not make music about making money. I just want to make something that I love... The money is a bonus..." He laughs a bit--it's a little less musical this time-he continues, "And it's also painfully necessary... Supporting myself is sort of a long time goal at the moment." Another hair tousle and he's back to looking at Barry. "Does that make sense?"

Barry nods. He knows a lot of talented artists who are struggling to create and live at the same time. He instinctively moves closer to Dan. He tries not to take a big whiff as Dan's scent assaults his nostrils. 

"I'd love to hear your songs... If you want me to listen." Barry responds, trying to be as supportive as possible. He wants to reach over and place his hand on top if his but as his hand flinches forward something stops him. He's scared. Fearful of Dan's rejection and his own reaction. Dan beats him to it, laying a hand over Barry's.

Before Barry can think Dan's face cranes down to his, placing a peck lightly on his surprised lips. Barry jolts up--eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed. 

"That means a lot Barry," His name coming out of his mouth makes Barry's throat swell, "I would be honored if you'd come hear me play sometime." Barry nods vigorously. Dan's laughter is beautiful. He gives Barry another fleeting kiss. Barry's heart swells and aches in his throat. He silently begs for more--Dan's lips taste sweet. 

The show forgotten, they lose themselves in small, timid kisses. Their smiling lips colliding and over. Dan gently parts his mouth and slowly glides his tongue along Barry's top lip. Barry obliges, allowing their faces to become millimeters closer in a deep kiss. Barry can feel the small tickle of stubble against his nose and inter twining with his short beard. The friction is pleasant and welcoming. He finds himself taken away by it-- looping an arm around Dan's neck and turning his entire body towards his. He presses himself in to the hard chest of the boy next to him, moaning slightly at the contact. Dan's breath hitches. Barry can feel every movement he makes. It's inciting. 

Dan gathers up the courage to wrap both arms around Barry's soft waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He's wanted to touch him for so long it's almost a dream. The timid boy behind the counter is suddenly pulling himself in to his lap, eagerly lavishing the inside of his mouth. The sudden devilish nature of his cute barista sends Dan's body in to wild hot spasms. He can't stop squeezing, pulling, kissing, writhing... Barry begins to make small, precise circles with his hips gyrating in to his crouch. Dan's about to pass out.

Their kiss breaks when Dan throws his head back to groan. His eyes fly open as Barry's ass presses harder in to his lap. Dan has to blink to see straight. Dan's hands fly to Barry's hips, holding him tightly in place. Barry stops his delicious movements, mouth slightly parted, face flushed-- Dan knew this was going to be hard to do... In more ways than one. 

"Barry," he breathes, the word barely forming in his mouth "Slow down." Dan smiles up at him, eyes shining. "This is amazing. Like. More amazing than I can possible describe to you. This is seriously a dream come true-- But can we... I don't know..." Dan struggles to find the right words. Hurt spreads deeper across Barry's features. Dan's heart sinks. The only sound in the room their ragged breathing and the closing credits of an episode long forgotten. He moves his hands to Barry's lower back and pulls him closer, feeling his heart beat through his palms. "...I just... Don't want to...." He sighs. "Scare you away."

Dan burrows his head in to Barry's neck, breathing in the smell of adrenaline and sweat. He feels Barry lean his face against the soft cushion of his hair. They stay like this for a while, sharing bodies and breath. 

"You won't scare me." Barry says breaking the silence. Dan pulls away to look at him straight on. Barry clears his throat before continuing, "I know what I want. I'm not confused or whatever it is you think I am..." He runs a hand down Dan's face, stopping at his jawline to caress his cheek. Dan leans in to his touch. "I like this. I like you. I want to keep doing... Whatever we were just doing." Barry's blush creeps back on to his face. "I've thought about it too you know... You weren't the only one staring across the coffee shop." Barry laughs and looks away, embarrassed. Dan moves a hand to his cheek and gently pushes his face back toward his. Barry leans forward, bringing their foreheads together. "I waited for you every day." Barry whispers in to the delicate space between them. "Seeing you... It made me so happy... It makes me so happy." Dan's lips reach to find Barry's. The kiss is slow and purposeful--filled with emotions they haven't shared yet. 

"But," Dan interrupts again, doubt creeping to the surface, "You don't even know me." He stares deep in to Barry's eyes. Pleading for an answer. 

"No," Barry responds, "I don't." He places a chaste kiss on Dan's cheek, "But I really want to."

Overjoyed with his answer, Dan lifts Barry slightly, moving him until he's underneath him. The couch barely big enough for him to prop himself on top of his cute coffee counisuer. His left leg dangles uselessly off the edge while Barry wraps both of his around Dan's hips. They kiss, their motions slower and more calculated. Their heads swim with thoughts of each other. 

Dan slowly unbuttons Barry's shirt, his hands lingering on every small plastic piece. Barry's hands wander beneath Dan's black t-shirt--his finger tips playing with every chest hair. They take their time undressing, the new territory marveling and wonderful. They trace the outlines of each other, feeling every mark, every imperfection, on the other's skin. Dan leans down to press a trail of kisses from Barry's ear down to his collarbone, sucking on the protrusion. Barry moans and runs his hands up Dan's back and through his hair. Their erections rub painfully against one another through layers of jean.

Barry stops their ministrations with a gentle nudge of his shoulders, turning around so he's belly down on the couch. He reaches over the arm of the couch, trying to ignore thee distracting kisses Dan is trailing down his spine. He laughs a bit before reaching in to the side table, producing a some necessary materials.

It isn't until Dan sees the familiar packaging before he asks, "Is this, uh, your first...?" 

Barry sputters, turning back over, "Oh, uh, no... This one time in freshman year--"

"Tell me later." Dan interrupts before plunging downwards for another kiss.

Their jeans come off a little faster, the heat in their wanting voices drifting through the apartment. Once fully undressed, they stop to look, curious hands running down every curve of their bodies. Barry takes this wondrous moment to re-wrap his legs around Dan's waist, their now painful erections coming in to brief contact. Both moan and jerk awkwardly at the sensation. It's too good--Barry props himself up on his elbows to look down, the lewdness of their position making his body hot.

Dan lifts Barry's legs a little higher, running his hands down his smooth thighs until he as a firm grasp on his ass. Barry moans again at the contact, covering his eyes in embarrassment. Dan laughs and gives him a little squeeze.

"Hey, stop that," Dan coos, absolutely enamored with the way his arm hair contrasts against his skin, "Barry, stop, I want to see all of you."

Barry slowly removes his hands, instead placing them behind him, grasping the arm of the couch. His lips part, face flushed, his eyes nervous. Dan licks his lips and kisses the side of his leg

"Much better." Dan breathes.

He takes a slender finger and coats it while kissing Barry's knee, the inside of his thigh--anywhere he can to help him relax. Barry's trying not to recoil and hide, but watching Dan makes him fight the urge to cover his eyes again even for one moment. Dan's eyes lock with his, the serious, wanting gaze so much different than before. Barry writhes under him.

"Are you sure?" Dan asks one more time. Barry responds with a lazy nod, his mouth open and breathing sweet nothings.

"Yes, Dan, please--" Those pleading words is all the consent he needs. He quickly hoists Barry's legs to rest comfortably against his shoulders, earning a surprised, quiet yelp in response. 

The first finger is always tantalizingly slow. Barry can feel every centimeter as he enters him, running his finger in small gentle circles, searching as he carefully stretches him. Barry's anxious with anticipation, silently begging him to hurry. It's not until he feels the pressure of a second finger that a small trigger is touched. He feels it immediately, involuntarily clenching and crying out, gasping and moaning as Dan continues to press in to it, feeling around it, gently sending him crazy. Barry's back arches and his hips begin to move on their own, wanting and needing more contact.

"Jesus Christ, Barry," Dan breathes, head tilted down, back hunched, his finger never stopping, "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now?" Dan's free hand digs in to his hip, their crouches gyrating against one another.

"Mmm--Dan," Barry breathes between moans, "Now--" Barry doesn't have to ask, Dan's sent over the conceivable edge, withdrawling his prodding fingers a little too qquickly. Barry shudders at the lack of contact, waiting patiently for Dan to finish preparring himself, hips thrusting gently upward.

"How do you do that," Dan chuckles, throwing the wrapping on the floor. He places himself right at Barry's entrance, body tight and nervous, "How are you so fucking magnificent?" The last question breathed through clenched teeth.

"W-what?" Barry asks coyly, before throwing his head back against the couch. Dan enters slowly, body almost shaking with effort. Barry's so tight, but so soft, so warm--it's hard to control his speed, his momentum, himself. He's fully immersed in his cute barista before he hears him make a sound. A shallow moan escapes his lips and it goes right to Dan's legs. He waits for Barry to be ready before moving, but the impatient grinding of the boy below him is all he gets.

He moves slow, shivers running through his body. When he pulls back, Barry moans low and loud, coming straight from his throat. He tries to pause-he wants to make this last--but Barry's hips buck and he sets the pace. 

"More," Barry groans, continuing his hard grinding, "Faster--ahh--" Dan's control lost, he grab's Barry's waist and thrusts as far as he can inside of him, each time a little bit harder while changing his angle, moving his hips in gentle circles, waiting, searching. 

"Ah!" Barry exclaims, his arms and chest visibly tensing, "There Dan, ah, ah, right there--ah, don't stop--"Not being one to disappoint, Dan continues to mindlessly slam in to him, back and forth cooing sweet moans to his lover as he ravishes him. Barry's lost all sense of self and grabs Dan's arms to buck his hips in to Dan's thrusts. Barry's mouth is slack, a string of indecipherable noises escaping his lips in varying pitches. It's too much--Dan can feel the sweat gather on his brow, the tightness pool in his groin. He can't hold on much longer. He reaches aa slick hand down and starts pumping Barry's cock, sending Barry spiraling in to a fit of gasp and a chanting of Dan's name as he comes in to the warmth of Dan's hands. Barry is impossibly tight, making it easy for Dan to follow.

"Yes, oh, Barry--" Dan growls, thrusting as deep as he could possibly go. Barry's hands fly around Dan's head, holding him as he comes, curled over Barry's stomach. Barry breathes heavily, echoing Dan.

It isn't until the menu screen comes back on that they pull away from each other. Their hot breaths intertwining and mingling in the air. Barry's hair clings to his forehead, a sheen of sweat highlights his entire being. Dan falls against his chest, his nose tickled by Barry's wondrous chest hair. Dan's hands glide up and down Barry's arms while Barry holds his shoulders tightly. It's too surreal. Barry feels like if he lets go, he could wake up from a dream.

"God Barry." Dan states in a slurred voice. Barry laughs a little and Dan clears his throat, "I don't know where that came from but--" Dan sighs, "That was amazing."

Barry giggles--his giddiness showing in his uncharacteristic laughter, "What a cliche thing to say." Barry squeezes a little tighter. 

"Would you rather I said 'thank you'?" Dan asks, the smile obvious in his voice. 

"I think it would be appropriate." Barry teases. Dan lifts his head and states at him. He's somehow cuter now than in his uniform.

"Thank you Barry, for being super down with me boning the shit out of you." Dan smiles wider and Barry's face contorts in embarrassment and happiness. Dan adjusts so he's laying next to Barry, receiving a huff of dissatisfaction from the by under him. He reaches behind him and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch, lazily throwing it over them. 

The menu music loops in the background, forcing Barry to wiggle beneath Dan to find the remote and turn it off. When the screen goes blank and the room is eerily quiet, he laughs a little bit.

"I won't be able to watch Cowboy Bebop now..." Barry says, snuggling back in to Dan. Dan's arm curls around Barry's shoulders, squeezing him.

"It'll be our song." Dan chuckles and kisses the top of Barry's head. Barry blushes, somehow more bothered than before. Their closeness is so new but so familiar. He feels a dozen butterflies fluttering in his stomach and the feeling of a new love bubbles in his throat. He can't help but lean up and kiss him. It catches Dan off guard, but he melts in to it, letting the cute coffee boy take him over.

Barry jerks back suddenly, looking Dan right in the eye.

"I hope you know, we're still playing Mario Kart." Barry says, leaning a little bit further from Dan. A look of dread spreads across Dan's features, he was kind of hoping he forgot about his N64 ignorance. He groans and tries to pull Barry closer to him, but he won't move. Dan whines a few more times before giving in.

"Fine! Fine..." Dan slumps in to the couch and pulls the blanket up to his chin, "OK! We'll play..." Barry's face lights up and he forces himself in to Dan's chest. Dan laughs and hugs him. He's so warm in his arms--why would he want to leave this embrace just to get his ass handed to him in a game he's never played?! But Barry's excitement is contagious. Barry releases himself from Dan's grasp and stands up, his sudden confidence alluring.

"But first," Barry starts, standing with his hands on his hips gloriously naked in front of Dan. "A shower." Barry begins to sway to the bathroom, "Wanna come?" Dan is up and following him almost immediately--he is suddenly very eager to play Mario Kart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love you all


	6. Chapter 6

Barry stumbles out of his room, still drunk on thoughts from the night before. To Barry's surprise Dan stayed until 2 am, playing Mario Kart and eating junk food in to the wee hours of the morning. The delicate touches and make out sessions that followed every race would send their hearts pounding against each other's chest. It was hard not to peel Dan back out of his jeans.

The light in the kitchen assaults Barry's senses, his hands immediately shielding his eyes. He smells the delicious scent of eggs and bacon drifting warmly in to his nostrils. He inhales, craving actual food.

"Morning sleepyhead." A sing song voice greets him. Barry grunts and shuffles over the coffee maker, of course there's already ample cups brewed to get him through his morning. An inpatient huff comes from the stove, "I said good morning, Barry."

"Morning Suzy." Barry finally mumbles, sitting down at their small island/dining room table. Their apartment is small, but not uncommon for a New York City two bedroom. Their living room and kitchen are almost the same thing with a thin island separating the two like a makeshift half wall. They utilize it to its full potential to give the living room more square footage. Barry's halfway through his cup when a plate of hot food is thrown in front of him with such force a few stray egg bits land in his boxer clad lap. He picks them up and puts them in his mouth--super tasty as always. Suzy huffs again.

"Here I am, a nice domestic room mate, making my best friend breakfast, waiting on pins and needles to hear about his date, and all I get is a "morning"?!" Suzy's placed her hands on her hips, one fist weilding a spatula in a very terrifying manner. Barry switches tones.

"I'm so very sorry my dear Suzy, I am simply not all here this morning, please forgive me." Barry responds flourishing a fork full of eggs for effect. He earns a very small smile from Suzy and assumes all is forgiven. She climbs in to the seat next to him, their arms touching. He's used to the closeness and leans in to her, feeling much more grounded in reality.

"So, tell me. Tell me everything." Suzy bumps his shoulder and sends him careening a little bit. The memories of last night melt into his subconscious as he's already blushing. Suzy can see the chagrin run up his cheeks and does a silent gasp. "Barry!! You didn't." Barry runs a hand through his hair and down his face. He turns sheepishly to Suzy.

"Oh my God Suzy, I did." Barry replies trying not to grin from ear to ear--seemingly unprepared for the onslaught of questions soon to follow. Suzy mirrors his gleeful smile and places both hands on Barry's arm. He supposes he's not going to finish his eggs anytime soon.

Suzy's questions range from the broad to the awkwardly specific as she delves in to Barry about last nights date--although Barry hesitates to even call it that. Aren't dates with flowers at a restaurant or something? All they did was fuck and play video games... It was fun but was it a date?

"Of course it's a date!!" Suzy's fingers dig in to his arms. "It doesn't matter what you do, you spent time in someone else's life on purpose. That's a date." Suzy literally bounces in the seat next to him. Barry chokes down a piece of bacon. So if that was really a date, what happens now? They totally skipped so much of the actual, like, dating junk... Does Dan think that's all there is? Does he know that it was meaningful and wonderful and perfect? That it wasn't just a hook up? Barry pushes his plate away from him. No way he can finish it now. Suzy looks at him, concern washing over her excitement. Barry waves away her disappointment and smiles.

"How was YOUR date last night?" Barry smiles coyly in her direction. Suzy darkens to a deep crimson, letting go of Barry's arm to turn and face the stove.

"Well, I thought something like... That... Would happen so, I, um, stayed the night." Suzy buries her face in her palms while Barry stares slack jawed at his room mate.

"You stayed." Barry repeats incredulous, "Over a boy's house." Suzy nods in her hands. "That I've never even met." Suzy nods once more. "When will this be remedied?!" Suzy turns to face Barry, her cheek still resting in her palms.

"I dunno. Soon? He wants to meet you too!" Suzy pleads for Barry's approval. He's very protective of her. They've been friends for so long. She was the first one to accept him--the first one to go online and Google gay shit with him--this guy had better be freaking Adonis. Barry sighs, accepting that he can't be the only guy in her life. He rubs small circles on her back and she relaxes, moving her hands from her face.

"What was his name again? Allen?"

"Arin!" Suzy corrects him quickly, looking away from him and staring down at the counter. "You've seen him, I showed you pictures." Suzy pouts and traces the cracked marble pattern of the counter.

"Oh yeah." Barry remembers, "Not my type, but cute." Barry smiles and Suzy pushes him a little bit.

"Good! He shouldn't be your type!" Barry catches Suzy's shoulders and bring her in for a side hug. "He's my type..." Suzy blushes and idly picks up her phone--probably to text him. Barry chuckles.

"You're too cute." He ruffles her perfectly coiffed hair and she cries out in protest, almost dropping her phone. "Come on, let's get ready for work."

As he's walking away from the kitchen he can't help himself. He snickers before saying, "Did you two share a marital bed?" Suzy's after him with a dish towel in two seconds, the blush on her cheeks so bright he's afraid it's permanent.

\----------

Work is busy as it always is on the weekend. Something about Saturdays and a city. Luckily the tourists all go to Starbucks so all Barry gets are the locals and the traveling hipsters--who usually try to fit in with the locals and therefore are not a hassle. Doris coughs and spits with effort today, the dampness and humidity tampering with her inner circuits. Barry has a fan running on her, but he's not sure if more moist air will help the situation. Around three Doris coughs one more time and becomes decommissioned for the day. Barry switches registers and sends his companion cashier to make lattes and iced coffees behind him with Suzy, earning him a glare from the veteran barista. He sends her an apologetic shrug--while he knows how to make the drinks, he'd rather stay at the front in case Doris needs a hug.

The day grows longer and the shop much less busy. With all his new free time Barry takes to wiping down the counter before flipping through some flash cards. He's about twenty in when he realizes he hasn't been reading them at all--utterly and hopelessly distracted by the image of a tall, lanky brunette floating effortlessly through his mind. He stares at the useless words scrawled across his index card and remembers the way his body curved around his. How his hips felt perfect against his ass. How his lips formed elegant shapes down his chest. He feels his face flush and his body grow hot. He has to shake his head and look somewhere, anywhere, rather than these stupid cards.

An hour passes and there's still no sign of him. He comes in everyday he works. But today he's either running severely late or he's not coming. Doubt swims through Barry's mind, making his brain swell in negativity. He can feel the sadness pool in his temples and force his skull to break in two. What if that was it? What if that was all he wanted? Is it over? Is he done? Is he done with him?

Barry is painfully dragged from his self depreciating thoughts when a customer clears his throat. Barry's stomach flips around, filling with a cacophony of butterflies. He's almost afraid to look up and see him. The same man that kissed him so passionately and loved him so dearly only a night before. Chills run through his veins as he tries to comprehend that he's standing in front of his register, still working, still on the clock. Barry finally glaces up and his eyes glue to the familiar ones in front of him. Barry shifts awkwardly, trying so hard not to reach out and touch him.

"Hey Barry." Dan greets him, the struggle of normalcy clear in his voice. Dan runs a twitchy hand through his mane. It comforts Barry a little that it's odd for him too. Barry smiles in return.

"H-hi. Long time no see." Best joke, Barry agrees in his mind. Totally appropriate and not weird. The stutter was a bonus.

"Yeah." Dan shifts from one foot to the other, "God," he says obviously frustrated, "I just--I just want to hug you so bad right now." Dan smiles and runs both hands through his hair at the same time. Barry somehow blushes inconceivably darker than he already was and looks down at the register.

"S-so do I..." Barry whispers back, letting the statement trail off. It isn't until he feels two leather clad arms wrap around his head that he looks up, only to be greeted with the sight of Dan's plaid shirt. Is that a chest hair? That's totally a chest hair. Barry relaxes in to the embrace and hugs him back. They stay like that for a little bit, comforting each other's insecurities.

"Hey," Dan begins, promoting Barry to try and look at his face. It doesn't work. "Hey, can I kiss you?" Barry pulls back to look at Dan's face but he's already looking away, too preoccupied with the specials menu. Barry chuckles and plants a kiss on Dan's lips. It's too brief and soon they're pulling away at the prompt of Suzy's loud coughing. Barry's flushed face as they pull away could send Dan over the edge, but he reluctantly keeps his cool and bends around Barry to see Suzy.

"Hey Suzy." Dan calls out, giving a shy wave. Suzy scoffs and goes back to cleaning. Dan's gaze returns to Barry. He decides to order something--his usual plain coffee. Barry is silently grateful because it gives his hands something to do rather than pine to touch Dan. Barry places his coffee on the counter and Dan digs kit his wallet, a fleeting expression of surprise passing over his feature. "Oh, I brought you something." Dan reaches in to his jacket pocket and produces two pieces of paper and hands them to Barry. "They're tickets." Barry looks down at them quizzically, "To my next show--" Dan quickly follows up, "If you want to come that is..."

Barry's face lights up and he looks from the tickets to Dan to the tickets again.

"Are you serious?!" He says a little bit louder, "You're inviting me to a show?! Your show?! This is amazing! Yes! Yes of course I'll come!" Barry's eyes glitter with excitement and it sends a bolt of warmth through Dan's chest.

"Oh dude that's so cool of you." Dan smiles and grabs his coffee. "It's in like two days--a weekday I know, but beggars can't be choosers." Barry's beaming expression never leaves his face. He almost looks proud. It makes Dan happy and horny at the same time.

"I don't care when it is I'm so there, dude." Barry shoos Dan's money away and comps the drink. Dan's stunned expression is payment enough. "Call it a perk." Barry states, twirling the sharpie around his fingers.

"I'm OK with this." Dan replies smiling before turning around, "I'll see you there." He says walking away. Barry is so entranced by the movement of his hips he doesn't see Suzy snatch the tickets out of his hands.

"What's this?!" She reads the tickets, "He's in a band! You didn't tell me that!" She holds the tickets taught between two fingers, showing the name of the band to Barry once again.

"Hey, I don't know myself until two minutes ago." Barry dismisses the accusation but quickly turns towards her an states, "You're coming with me." Suzy's mouth flies open and it's a moment before she speaks.

"Well of course I'm coming with you!" She waves the tickets in one hand, almost as of fanning Barry with them, "But tell me, what the heck am I supposed to wear to a show for a band called 'Skyhill'?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up way too late writing this... i loved every minute of it *-*  
> I will edit this whole freaking story one day, I swear it...


	7. Black and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Skyhill doesn't have a whole band, but, like, let's pretend. Also, there is a line with a * next to it. It's sung like the chorus of Mother by The Misfits. I had it stuck in my head--that is my only reasoning. 
> 
> Please drink responsibly.

The venue is small, like, crazy small. It's hard to even call it a venue, maybe a better descriptor would be a basement--or even half a basement. The entrance was street level, but after flashing their IDs to the rather large man sitting on the rather small stool out front, they were ushered down at least two flights of stairs in to the barely-a room they're in now. Once they reach the bottom it's another flash of IDs before the doors open. The room is dark, painted black with various graffiti marks strewn around. There's a bar that's big enough for the bartender and maybe five people to stand at comfortably with absolutely no seating to be found. The stage is against the back wall, almost touching the bar, a small walkway for bands and gear separating the two. Barry doesn't have to glance around the room--one wide angle look and he's seen the whole thing. They take five steps in and they're already half way to the stage and in front of the one bathroom. Someone opens the door to said bathroom and pushes them almost to the bar and in to fellow patrons. The only ones sharing the space with them are three tired looking dudes, decked out in camo shorts and jean jackets with the sleeves cut off. Said jackets are littered with patches for various bands Barry's never even heard of--he couldn't even guess the genre. 

The ticket said "doors at 8", so he came at 8--but now he's thinking maybe 9 or 10 would have been a better option. Suzy sticks out like a sore thumb already, decked out in full goth regalia. She has her huge hooded tank top with the hood pulled over her elegantly curled blonde and black hair. Her leggings are a designed as a Catholic cathedral's stained glass and her boots are so high they cover most of the art. The platforms are amazingly tall, sending her almost in to the stage lights. Her make up is dark and intense as always with eye swoops that seem to never end. She's every aspect of extreme... She might fit in more than Barry--who owns very few black shirts and opted for one sporting the Legend of Zelda crest and wings. His pants are just a dark blue jean at normal tightness. He only owns one pair of casual shoes and they're his all black converse with black accents. He doesn't look bad, but these dudes look hard core and Suzy looks so bad ass... He immediately feels crazy nervous and estranged from the whole establishment. 

They just stand there for a minute, taking it all in. Both are too speechless about the confines of the space and clueless about any sort of local band scene that they can't find anything to talk about. A small "ahem" comes from behind the bar and Barry looks over to find a girl waving to them. Her hair is short and seems to be in a weird transition period from blonde, to white, to pink all at once. She smiles at them.

"First time here?" She asks while wiping a glass. Barry notices that her biceps are super toned and flexing with every motion. She must work out... Suzy responds first.

"Mhm," Suzy scoots to the counter and rests her arms against it, "He's never been to a show before and I've never been to this venue." Suzy shrugs, playing it inconceivably cool. Barry is in awe. "Do you know any of the bands? Are they good?"

The bartender shrugs, "Yeah, I don't hate them. The opener is a little weird though-not my speed, but you can feel the emotions in it." She sets the glass down, "And the lead singer is funny, which makes for a good show." She follows up, still smiling. Suzy returns the smile. "Do you guys want stamps? If I give you this all-powerful stamp you can leave and wander for a bit before the show starts--you're kind of early." She laughs a bit and it's contagious. Barry's nerves and embarrassment catch up to him and he starts chuckling. The bartender looks over Suzy to make eye contact with him and he freezes. 

"I'm Suzy," States Barry's social-awkwardness savior, trying to diffuse any of his tension, "And that's Barry." She uses her thumb to point behind her. Barry does a five finger wave to his immediate mortification. The bartender does another infectious giggle.

"Holly," She extends a hand out to both of them and they shake her hand separately. Barry's suspicions were right, she's strong and her handshake shows it. "Really nice to meet you. Let me give you a stamp." She produces a black pad of ink and a seemingly home made stamp, depressing the mark on to both of their wrists.

"A bird?" Barry asks, holding the shape to Holly.

"A pigeon," she responds, "This place is called the Pigeon Coop." 

\---

They eat slowly, not wanting to return back to another empty bar. They were able to get hot dogs from one of Barry's favorite street meat vendors and despite savoring the delicious toppings, Barry's stomach almost refuses food. He's so nervous he can feel the bile creep up the back of his throat with every bite. Being outside is almost worse. They're sitting on a bench at a bus stop about five blocks away. Every car, every, bike, every pedestrian, Barry looks up to see if it's him. It never is, but his heart doesn't stop pounding. Suzy notices his nervous jumps and after about the tenth one she speaks up. 

"Barry, I need you to turn it down to maybe a two. A one, if you can handle it." She teases, taking another sip of Coke. Barry looks at her, dejected. Is he that obvious? He slowly takes a bite of chili-soaked bun before replying. 

"Logically, I understand that request. But emotionally? Forget about it." He attempts a smile but from Suzy's pained expression it doesn't look as joyful as he'd hoped. He sets his hot dog back on his lap and sighs. "Maybe a chili half smoked wasn't a good idea." He holds his stomach, leaning forward.

"Get it together, Kramer!" Suzy retorts, jabbing him with her elbow. He flinches and draws a sharp breath in, but that doesn't deter his best friend. "You've already seen his dick so what's the worst thing that could happen?!" She gestures her hands outwards in a 'come-at-me' motion with her soda in one hand and her dog in the other. Barry looks at her stunned before melting in to nerve-destroying laughter. Suzy continues her battle stance, shaking her dinner around for emphasis, "What? What's so funny? I'm being serious!" Barry's still laughing, arms folded over his stomach and hot dog dangerously close to falling off his lap. Suzy jabs him once more in the ribs and finishes the job--the hot dog careening on to the New York City sidewalk. 

\---

When they return Barry's in much higher spirits, greeting the door man with a smile and a polite 'were back', before descending in to the dungeon. The crowd has filled out now, at least 20 people jammed in to the tight space. Barrys considers himself a bit more properly dressed after seeing a few others in similar simple get ups. He confidently walks over to the bar and squeezes himself and Suzy in between two dudes with unreadable metal shirts on. He waits until Holly makes eye contact with them to wave, the noise of the small crowd in the cramped space making it a little hard to say hello. She smiles back and makes her way over to them, ignoring a few other waiting faces. 

"Hey guys, welcome back. We've gotten just a tiny bit busier than when you left." She smiles again. Barry decides that she's his favorite bartender, like, ever. 

"I'm kind of glad it did." He responds. "Can we get two PBRs?" He asks, sliding his and Suzy's IDs across the bar. She takes a glance at them and nods, sliding them back. Barry watches her reach in to the cooler below the tap and drag out two tall boy cans. He's pleasantly surprised as she cracks both open and places them in front of them. He goes to hand her his card, but she shakes her head. 

"On the house." She says smiling, then holds up a finger to correct herself, "Well, not really. A guy in one of the bands told me to put your drinks in his tab." Barry's face goes red, Suzy notices but Holly's looking up in thought, snapping her fingers. "Oh jeez, what was his name? Ned? Don? Dean?" 

"Dan?" Barry blurts out, his being too flustered to wait for her to figure it out. 

"Yeah! Dan! He's in the first band! He's the funny one I was talking about. Nice guy." She smiles, looking at Barry now. She sees the chagrin trickle from his neck to his cheeks and up his ears. Her smile turns in to a smirk, "Oh, but I'm sure you know all about that." She winks and gives him a thumbs up. Barry turns so red he might also be purple. "If you guys need anything else just coo!" And with that Holly turns around and serves the horde of attendees in her wake. 

Suzy nudges Barry and pulls him away from the bar so more people can get their drink on. Once out of the line of fire, Barry holds the can to his forehead and tries to calm down--thankful for Suzy, the large can, and the coldness. Suzy grabs his free hand in hers and squeezes. He looks over at her smiling face and calms down a bit. She's just been the best tonight. He couldn't ask for a better friend. 

"What's Arin doing tonight?" He asks, giving her hand another squeeze. He feels the sweat pool between their palms. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and back at Suzy. Her face looks nervous, almost guilty. 

"W-well." She starts before blowing out a long breath, "I actually invited him here tonight." She watches Barry's face closely for any change in emotion, but only gets a smile. 

"Neat!" He responds, unaffected. "That's awesome! When will he be here?" Suzy's eyes open a little wider. 

"So you're ok with him coming?" She asks incredulously. Barry looks at her confused, waiting for her to continue. "I wasn't sure, since this is, like, your night and he invited only us and I didn't know if you wanted a third person and I don't think you're gonna be a third wheel, but I didn't want you to feel like a third wheel, but I really wanted him to come and not to mention if you go home with Dan I don't want to be here by myself and--" Barry shushes her with his PBR can, keeping their fingers locked together. 

"Wow, OK, first of all, stop, because, wow." Barry takes a second to take in that whole rant before continuing, "Second, I'm glad you invited him so I can meet him and you can have company--third wheel or not." She smiles from behind the can. "And coincidentally thirdly, thank you for assuming I have so much game that I would go back to his place." He mirrors her smile and removes the can. Their hands release and they wrap one arm around each other's waist. They stay like that for a moment before Barry says, "Best friends, remember?" They sway back a forth a few times in the crowd, sipping on their PBR and enjoying the feeling of each other's supporting arms. 

"Best friends." Suzy echoes and uses her long fingers to tickle Barry's waist. He gasps and jumps out of her clutches right in to another human being. Barry's victim grabs his shoulders and steadies him before speaking. 

"Whoa man, are you OK?" Barry looks up to see a tall dude, maybe as tall as Dan, looking down at him. His shoulder length hair falls down around his round face. He somehow looks familiar... He hears a gasp from Suzy's direction and looks back down. 

"Arin!" She exclaims, face contorting from surprise to anger, "I didn't know you were here!" She crosses her arms and pouts, "I was waiting for you to text me." Barry looks from his mildly irritated best friend to the man currently behind him. His shoulders are released and Arin walks around Barry to Suzy, wrapping his arms under her folded ones and picking her up. Suzy squeals playfully as Arin hoists her up until he's standing, their faces in front of one another. Her hands move from their crossed position to his shoulders and she smiles. They kiss, not long, but long enough for Barry to take a long drag from his tall boy. When he hears the smack he looks at them again. How Suzy did that with a beer in hand he'll never know. 

"I'm sorry babe," he begins in a deep, traveling voice, "I just wanted to surprise you." He puts her down and she pats his chest a few times--Barry assumes that's straight-talk for forgiveness. It's a good minute of the two of them staring in to each other's eyes until Barry clears his throat. Suzy turns to him, almost shocked that he's there, and then back to Arin. 

"Arin, my room mate Barry." She motions between them and Arin offers him his hand. Barry takes it. "Barry, my man-friend Arin." Barry laughs a bit at the term man-friend. When she first told him about Arin she used that term and he ridiculed her about it for a week. He understands where she's coming from--Arin is not a boy, he's a man--but it was just odd enough to make her blush when pressed about it. They finish their hand shake and Arin pulls Barry in to a hug, just in time for the sound check to start. 

Barry hears the feedback of a microphone before a booming voice states, "Hey, can you release that gentleman? I have dibs." Barry is immediately released and everyone looks to the stage. Dan stands there, mic in hand, smiling devilishly at Barry. Barry's mouth dries immediately, the blood draining and rushing to his face at the same time as he watches the crowd turn towards him in slow motion. It's not until the masses turn back towards Dan that laughter ensues. Barry takes a side step behind the monster that his Arin, obstructing his view of the stage. He puts both his hand and his tall boy on his face, trying to chase the redness from his cheeks. Suzy thankfully takes the empty can from him so he can use both hands to be mortified. He can't hear anything other than the sound guy over the speakers asking for more checks from various instruments. He focuses on the guitar rift, the bass line, the brief drum solo, and finally the request for vocals. 

"Sure," He hears Dan reply back--polite as always. "Check, check," he says in rapid succession before belting out in the most beautiful voice he's ever heard, "Barry, I'm so sorry I embarrassed you. I'm so sorry you're hiding behind that guy. Oh--Barry!"* The crowd does a brief whoop and Barry feels himself being pushed past the whole crowd until he's staring Dan in the face, front and center--the half of a step which denotes the stage between them. Dan smiles and brings the mic to his lips. "Thanks." He says briefly, the countdown of the drum sticks signaling the beginning of their set. 

As the song starts Dan turns around and sings to the crowd. Barry's feet feel concreted to the floor. Every note. Every line. It's beautiful. He sings with his heart and produces a sound of a million souls. His lyrics are mysterious and all knowing; filled with promise and empty with regret; joyous and dejected. He can hardly stand to watch him as he pours his emotions on to an unworthy crowd who talks while he performs, texts while he preaches. Barry's heart beats in his throat and the bass slams in his chest. Dan's voice rings through his ears and implants itself in his mind--a tumor of pride and admiration. Every so often Dan will look down at him, both hands on his mic, singing directly to him. It makes his knees weak and his stomach ache. He can't think of a better reaction than to stare in awe. 

Halfway through the set Barry begins to relax. They've been playing straight from the start, barely any words between songs. If anything is said, it's Dan making the occasional joke at the expense of the band and the crowd laughs. He feels himself sway to the music, his shoulders gliding smoothly through the air. Every song is a new window in to Dan's soul, and he looks in to it with greedy abandon. Dan's pacing all over the stage, singing to people in the crowd, singing to himself, wrapping a hand around his band mates and singing to them. He's enthralled in Dan's performance--his band's performance too, but mostly Dan's. 

A song ends and Dan runs a hand through his hair, halting the music for a second. He breathes out and looks down to Barry--Barry freezing instantly under his gaze. Dan squats down in front of Barry, looking him directly in the eyes. Dan starts speaking, "Just a reminder, we are Skyhill and this is our last song. I'd like..." he hesitates, his eyes scanning Barry's face. Barry wants to smile but he's afraid to. Dan smiles instead and it's perfect. "I'd like to dedicate..." he runs another hand through his hair, "To dedicate this song to you." He points at Barry. He can't even react before the music starts. 

Dan's still squatting down in front of him, his face inches from his. It's hard for him to describe the emotions he felt in that moment. The song is ethereal, melodic and sensual. Dan's mouth forms around the lyrics lovingly and with care. His voice caries his words directly in to his heart, piercing his veins with icy shivers and haunting dreams. Dan reaches toward him delicately with a timid hand. Barry leans forward and allows his chin to be captured in Dan's palm. He continues to sing, his voice distant to Barry's ears as he feels him pull him closer and closer. His feet shuffle forward--he was standing so long, he almost forgot he could walk. Their foreheads touch, both tilting their faces down, allowing the mic to fit between them. Barry's mouth slacks as he breathes in Dan's scent mixed with sweat. This close he can see the small hairs stuck to his forehead and the beads of moisture trickling down his temple. He's so mesmerized he hadn't noticed Dan stopped singing. The band continues to play as their lips touch. A jolt of electricity courses through Barry's body, he almost can't believe he's kissing the cute guy who came in and got coffee at his shop a lot while he sings with his band on stage at a local show. His mind vacates and all he can think about is the feeling of Dan's lips moving against his. 

It's all too brief and Dan releases Barry's chin and pulls back enough to put a mic between them again, singing the last line of the song directly in to Barry's mouth. Then it's all over. Dan leans forward past Barry's face and whispers in to his ear, "I'll be right back." Before standing up, thanking everyone for coming and repeating their band name. Dan turns around and helps his guys pack up their gear and Barry's left standing there staring at his butt--which wouldn't be a bad thing if the events of the past thirty minutes weren't just catching up with him. He bolts back in to the crowd to find Suzy and Arin holding hands and whispering by the dark corner of the bathroom. He taps her shoulder and informs her he's stepping outside before heading towards the stairs without waiting for a response. 

When he's outside the world comes in to focus. He steps on to the now empty street and sits on the sidewalk curb, hugging his knees. Cold air whips around his face, mellowing out his frayed nerves. His mind soothes and he's able to think, although that prompts memories of five minutes ago to seep in to his mind and he's reduced to burying his head in to his arms. 

The door opens and he hears Dan say hello to the large gentleman on the small stool. He also hears the large gentleman compliment him on his performance and Dan's jovial reply. The whole interaction makes him tense and uncomfortable--the desire to turn around a weight on his subconscious. He feels Dan walk closer to him and watches as his form sinks on the sidewalk next to him, his long legs splaying out in to the street. The taller man blows out a long breath before talking. 

"Hey," he starts, looking over at Barry's buried face. Barry responds with a muffled 'hey' and tilts his head to look at Dan. He looks like he's glowing, the adrenaline and excitement of performing showing on his gentle features. "I'm really happy you came." He says, throwing an arm around Barry's shoulders. The curled up man leans in to him, releasing his face from his smothering arms. It's a moment before he asks, "So--did you like it?"

Barry bolts upright, forcing Dan's arm to fall down to his waist. Barry's legs shoot out in front of him energetically.

"Yes!" He shouts. Dan leans away from him, assaulted by his zeal. Barry tones it down and continues, "It was amazing. You were amazing. I was amazed." He racks his brain for a better adjective and fails. In his pause he notices Dan's face turn a light shade of pink. He smiles bashfully and Barry's heart skips a beat. "I had no idea," Barry lightly presses his lips to Dan's. He pulls away slightly, "Dan... I had no clue you were so talented. I can't wait for the next show." 

Dan closes the space between them, crushing his lips to Barry's. Barry is taken aback by the ferocity of it, but gets swept away in the heat of his excellent mouth. Their tongues glide across one another, searching for an impossible closeness within the tangle of teeth and lips. Dan's hand grips Barry's waist harder, bringing him closer, making Barry's hands wander to Dan's chest; groping and feeling their way up to Dan's hair. He takes a fistful of luscious, untamable curls and pulls lightly, earning a groan from the singer. Tempted by the gorgeous noise, Barry pulls even harder, making Dan break away and lean back with the tug, groaning even deeper. The reaction makes Barry's breath catch in his throat. Dan's head falls down with the gentle release of Barry's fingers. His hooded eyes look at Barry's face, then Barry's lap and then back up. 

"Do you want to come back to my place?" Dan whispers heatedly in the space between them. Barry can only briefly nod before Dan grabs his hand, hoists him up, and walks him down the street toward his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will the next chapter be about I wonder???


End file.
